Ghosts of My Father's House
by KitschMiro
Summary: Bella returns after a century to look for pieces of her past. One-shot.


Disclaimer: All SM's, I'm just playing house.

Please excuse my poor grammar. Verb tenses are not my best friends, and I do not have a beta nor am I a very good proofreader. Otherwise, please enjoy!

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Bella touched the sepia colored photograph gently, her fingers idled over the faded faces of her life as she let the dust collect on her perfect white fingertips. She move through Charlie's house like a ghost, her bare foot treaded so lightly that it hardly left any mark on the dust ridden floorboards.

When she received news that Charlie's house is still standing and has been abandoned for some time, she promptly contacted the real estate office and mused over how long she should wait before she can return back to Forks to see it. Carlisle advised against returning when there are still people there who might recognize her, and as a result, the house was left to its own devises for another 50 odd years.

At the beginning, she only allowed herself to visit on special occasions, and even then, only for brief amounts of time.

"Just to lay some fresh flowers." She would tell Edward in a quiet voice, his face softening into regret, guilt, and a sadness so deep it betrayed their damning secret behind his beautiful youthful eyes.

Bella's heart used to soar and collapse whenever she caught a glimpse of that sorrowful expression. It reminded her of those exquisite Byronic heroes she poured herself over so long ago during Indian summer nights in Forks. She would trace the dimpled lines around his downturned mouth, smooth out the strain in his eyebrows, and lean in as close as he let her, whispering gently, "Edward, you are the most human person I know."

She doesn't do that anymore.

Now, whenever he looks at her that way, Bella can only avert her gaze. She did not want to see her own expression reflected in his eyes, her face twisted into the same ugly-beautiful mask. Bella realized, only too late, that it was not any human sadness that marred his expression, but a sorrow that feeds on a million little rivulets of loss collected over a century long of living. It was the mark of a monstrous existence, and one that she now wears.

There were thousands upon thousands of things she realized after she had been turned that fed into the river of her own loss. So much so that by the time the fight with the Volturi was over, and the mangled bodies of Emmett and Esmee haunted her every waking nightmare, she realized that looking at Edward no longer comforted her, but only served to remind her of the carnage that had resulted in the namesake of their love; a love that had twisted into a decrepit creature, gnawing at their consciences with his filthy fangs. Now, she and Edward resemble each other more than ever, as they wore twin expressions of regret, the Nile running through them both.

As the decades slip by, Bella rattle around in the empty Cullen house with Edward by her side, silently listening to the sound of regret dragging across their polished floor like chained prisoners. There was nothing left to do but to claw at the memories of her past. That was why she bought Charlie's house, and why she insisted on leaving it unrenovated, never shifting a single object from its rightful position.

It was only supposed to be a place where she goes to briefly taste the bittersweetness of a life long gone, but over time, her visits to Charlie's place became longer and more often.

After her refusal the first time he asked, Edward never again entertained the thought of coming along with her. He knows it is a place that does not belong to him; his presence would be excessive and unwelcomed. Even without asking, however, Edward already knew what it is that she does there, even if he does not allow himself to wander down that same path.

Bella had thought it was a curse when she discovered that her power as a vampire is having a vivid memory. She not only could recall every detail of her human life with more clarity than she ever did before, but if she concentrated enough, she could reproduce any memory right before her eyes, creating a perfect hologram of what once was. As the years roll by, Bella realized that her powers strengthen every time she uses it, so that by her first visit to Charlie's house, she could extract memory from every floorboard, every grass blade and watch the lives of those who were play before her eyes like a silent film. Even though the Volturi referred to it as a wonderful and strange weapon, she always thought of her ability as a useless burden, one that she suppressed with more effort than what she uses to control her blood thirst. One step into Charlie's house after more than a century of abandonment, however, changed all that.

The first time she stepped through the threshold, Bella found her useless lungs hitched in disbelief as she watched a grinning Charlie loop his arms around Renee, while she busily tries to maneuver her way into the kitchen to fetch a bottle for the screaming baby in her arms. As sudden as their image appeared, it was quickly replaced by another. It was Charlie again, older this time, mumbling to himself as he poured a cup of coffee and flipped open the morning newspaper, leaning lightly on the kitchen counter as per his usual morning routine. Bella's eyes sting with invisible tears as he mused over the crossword puzzle. Her hands reached out before her even as her mind tells her that it's useless, and sure enough, all she caught between her fingers are tendrils of gossamer spider web while Charlie continued sipping his coffee, unaware of the daughter he had tried to catch hold of so many times before.

This time, it was her who was doing the reaching.

That first day, Bella was bombarded by memory after memory, the ghosts of her past danced around her in a dizzying and hypnotic ballet. She was always ready to tear through the front door as each memory taunted her, but never moved from her spot until she caught a glimpse of a lanky russet boy trying unsuccessfully to juggle the contents of Charlie's refrigerator, laughing soundlessly as pale arms tried to swat at him from behind the kitchen wall.

"Jacob" She allowed herself to choke out before her heart implodes as she tears through the forest. It was years until she worked up the courage to return again; years until she was accustomed to the burning sensation that took permanent home in her chest after seeing that smile again. It was decades until she realized the fate of that boy whose laughing grin haunted her.

After several more visits, she had familiarized herself with seeing Charlie everywhere she turned, savored the few glimpses of Charlie and Renee together, and even trained herself not to stare too often at the human Bella sometimes lurking about, usually reading a book or cooking a meal in the kitchen. She tried her best to block images of Jacob scattered around the house, and almost always avoided the bay window where she used to sit with him as they peruse movie reviews or science reports. The few glimpses that she had of him since that first day were always the same, a young smiling Jacob tangled in some tomfoolery designed to make her laugh. That was why it was such a surprise, one late autumn night, when she found herself confronted by a much older Jacob lounging on her living room couch, reading one of her old Dickens novel. He seemed to be in his mid-30s, the lines that used to deepen whenever he furrows his face in concentration are now etched permanently onto his russet skin. His silky hair had thinned over time, but was still as long and luscious as she remembered. Even if it was silly, Bella decided to hold her breath anyway, afraid that he would look up any moment and see her staring. When he finally did look up however, his gaze soar right through her and landed on the window behind. Bella watched as he sauntered slowly over to the ledge underneath the bay window, his eyes gazed out onto the open road, a somber expression of cavernous longing echoing in his onyx eyes. His fingers move slowly over the condensation on the window as it etches out two tiny words in his messy scrawl.

_Come home._

It was all Bella could take before rushing up to hug this illusion, this dream of a man, and once again found herself clawing at thin air and smothered in dry sobs.

He was here. She realized, her useless heart clutching in pain. He was here after all that time, and he waited for me.

She watched helplessly as Jacob faded away.

The next day, Bella told Edward she was moving back permanently while he gazed at her with that same grave expression, only offering her a quiet apology when she declined his offer to help her set up. She had kissed him then, trying her best to replicate the love and passion that ignited them both so long ago, or to erase the scars of regret that marred them so deeply, but she could taste nothing but the sourness of grief on his lips, and sensed that hers were also chapped with regret and guilt. They separated then, each with a load they felt easier to carry alone than together.

She moved back to Forks and settled in Charlie's house, the cavern of her most precious treasures. The forest grew thick around the small house, and the town, along with the reservation, was abandoned years ago following a flash flood that leveled the nearby coast. She had tried to return to La Push, but found that there was nothing there anymore but trees and rotting timber. The place where the little red house used to stand was overgrown with forest pine and wild undergrowth, the land echoing a haunting emptiness that she found she could not stand. There were no memories left for her there. Therefore, save from her hunting trips and the rare drive to Seattle, Bella never left Charlie's house. She was truly alone, lost in time and space inside this house. It was the only home she has now.

Every day, Bella follows Charlie around as he reads his paper and eats his meals, careful not to disturb a single particle of dust lest it disrupts this delicate dream of a life she created for herself inside the memory of her father's house. She stopped trying to suppress Jacob's memory, and was distressed to find that there is far too little of him in this house. The more time she spent drawing memories from the old arthritic wood, the more she learned about Jacob's life after she left, if only through snippets of his presence inside the Swan house. She learned that he sometimes he came along with Billy to visit Charlie, and usually sat silently as the men talked over cold beer and sandwiches. She saw him after Charlie passed away, coming habitually to check up on the floorboards or fix broken windows. He even stayed over some nights, walking through the house in the same way she does now, tentatively, as if any sudden disturbance would create a monsoon halfway around the world. The oldest she ever saw him was that vision by the couch. After that day, it seemed as if the house itself was too tired and sorrowful to store any more broken hearts and longing gazes. It stopped remembering altogether.

_Or maybe he finally gave up._ Bella thought as she gazes at the somber eyes searching the road.

"I'm home." She would whisper nightly out the bay window. Every morning, she would listen for footsteps coming up the front porch, or the screeching sound of a swinging screen door, hoping against all odds that a miracle would happen, and she'll hear the sound of his voice calling out "Bells!" instead of muted dialogue from an elusive past she's clinging onto so desperately day after day. In the late afternoons, she lets the sight of Charlie lounging in front of their ancient TV seeps into her every pore, and sits next to a 15 year old Jacob grinning up at the bay window as she watches Renee dance the congo across their living room floor, hauling a 2 year old Bella along.

The past is the present while Bella waits for the tiny sliver of a miracle to deliver her future to her in the form of a russet wolf, even if she knows that it could never come true.

She has all the time in the world afterall, and the ghosts of her father's house to keep her company.


End file.
